Kingdom Come
by thatwickedumbrella
Summary: Loki has managed to seize the throne under the guise of Odin, and Thor's back on Earth oblivious to what's happening in Asgard. Luckily, everything's settled into a nervous state of peace - until sudden deaths and strange occurrences cause people to become a bit violent. Can all nine realms put aside their differences and work together to defy fate, or has Ragnarok come too far?


Hi!  
First of all, thank you for even checking this story out (even if this is all you read).  
Basically the premise of this story is that it's the end of the world, or Ragnarok as they called it. Apocalypse, whichever. It's a bit changed though – it's got pieces of the Prose Edda but not all. Also it's based off of all the movies so… really changed, actually. Anyways, sorry, I'm rambling. Did I say thank you already? Thank you:)

Also, this is my first story/fanfiction thing I've ever written, so any help is good help. Even curse words (but just make them nice curse words, I'm not sure if people read those or not). Thankyou!

* * *

The large, intricately decorated golden throne room seemed almost packed to the roof with hundreds upon hundreds of Asgardian citizens. From the nobles to the laypeople, almost everyone in the kingdom was attempting to squeeze themselves into the hall. And why not? This was one of the few times every hundred years or so that the Allfather would provide an answer to almost any request brought before him. It had begun as a way for the king to get a sense of what his people truly needed, but over the centuries turned into a festival of sorts.

It was madness during this time now; the roads were packed with late travelers now hurrying towards the golden castle. Some districts located nearer to the palace had the bright idea to turn a profit and squeeze some money out of those who lived in districts further away. Inns raised their prices, houses were rented and shared, and vendors would be out crowding the streets selling their wares. The taverns were also filled to the brim from the sudden influx of new arrivals, so there were no shortages of drunkards and brawls. The palace guards even had to help the regular guard's control the masses - so spread thin were their forces. The guards were even told to impose tavern closing times following a particularly nasty fight involving three drunken households and several mangy bears.

This was definitely one of the rowdier council festivals, but the novelty of the madness was not the only thing different this time around. There was a second novelty of this situation, and only one knew what it was.

Loki stared blankly at the five hundred thousandth hyperventilating peasant kneeling below him. He couldn't even remember what the fool was here pleading for – something about flailing pots.  
"Sire, _please_," the sniveling old man begged from his position in the floor, "my crops."  
Ah. Failing crops.  
"They will not last through this cursed winter- we will starve!"  
Odin glared down his nose at the sad old crumpled Asgardian. "It is sad, but inevitable," the Allfathers disinterested voice glided out of Loki's mouth before sliding down slowly and splattering itself all over the floor. Odin-Loki leaned over and looked down at the black sludge-looking mess of words pooling between his feet at the foot of the throne. He couldn't resist a quick glance around the throne room's inhabitants – did no one else see this puddle? They appeared to not have; they were all ignorant of his sludge pile and stared at him with their pathetic sorrowful eyes.

_Stupid fools_.  
"My king?"  
Loki's failing ears picked up on the almost lilting whisper that emanated from a confused looking Sif besides him. _Odin is going deaf_, Loki realized. He continued to stare down at the sludge smeared floor and waited for Sif to speak again. _Say it_, he asked her internally, _say it_…  
"Odin?"  
_No not that!  
"_Do you feel ill?"  
Odin shut his eyes for a moment and tried to think away the black matter that was pooling at his feet starting to ooze from his hands. He opened his eyes again and found the floor to be clear and his hands smear free this time. He leaned back wearily in his golden throne and smiled hollowly to himself before looking towards her.  
_What would Odin say?_ He stared at her a beat longer, forming a believable lie in his mind and preparing his silver tongue to work its magic.  
"No."

The smarmy, bitter tasting lie dribbled out from the corner of his mouth and dropped onto his chest and forearm. Sif did not notice.  
_Why does she not notice?_  
"…Allfather?"

It was Fandral this time, leaning forward to see around Sif and give Odin a concerned look-over. Odin was looking at him as well… actually, through him. The king's one uncovered eye was glazed over and milky looking – he appeared to be going blind. Fandral held in a grimace; Odin was a bit worse for wear. It was unsurprising that he had been distraught over Frigga's death and Thor's departure for Earth, but Loki's death had seemed to take a greater toll than expected. Perhaps Odin had cared more about the traitor prince than he had let on. Looking at their king now - sluggish, disheveled, and blue eyes unnaturally dull, it was quite obvious that Odin's physical health was failing. He appeared fine mentally for such an old Asgardian, but still the Allfather was beginning to act strangely - small things that were out of place. Fandral noticed this, and it disheartened him to see their great king stumbling with no one to help him.  
_Why is Thor not here?_ Fandral growled internally. _Odin needs him, _we_ need him – the kingdom needs him! Who will lead us?_  
Odin was still staring at him; Fandral wondered he could even see him at all.

Odin-Loki could barely make out his Thors friend's form not two seats down from Sif. He rubbed his eye and ignored the sludge in the palm of his hand now. The Warriors Three (and Sif) had taken it upon themselves to be, combined, Odin's right hand in Thor's absence. It was unnecessary, Odin could have ordered them around whether they were next to him or not, but it was a kind gesture. It aggravated Loki more than anything; they wouldn't do it so willingly if they had known who their king really was.

He turned back to the whimpering farmer below him, awaiting Odin's judgment. _Odin's verdict,_ Loki hissed to himself, _not mine_. He glared at the shivering twit and held back the urge to send him away with nothing. He reserved that right, he was their king. But now he was Odin, so he had to be Odin.  
"Fine." He murmured.  
The farmer raised his wet, red face. "P-pardon?" He stammered.  
"I said fine!" Loki shouted, making the first few rows of Asgardian's jump. "I will dispatch a few men to help you with your land."  
"B-but my king…" the old man whispered, wringing his threadbare cap between his hands. "It is winter."  
Loki felt his blood boil – if that were at all possible. "You want me…" he hissed menacingly through Odin, "to move the _seasons_?"  
"N-no-!"  
"What next?" Odin shouted down from his throne, "Do you want me to blot out the sun when it gets in your eyes?"  
"N-"  
"Do you want me to turn off the moon and stars when you have a fitful sleep?!"  
"Sir-!"  
"Would you rather I till your land for you personally? Drop my responsibilities and pull up your weeds?!"

The man was wringing his cap at a ferocious speed now, utterly terrified at his kings outburst. "Sire…" he managed after many dry swallows, "It's never winter this side of Asgard."  
Loki stared at the farmer blankly.  
"Allfather," he continued to whisper hoarsely, scared to make his king shout again. "This change in seasons is why I am here."  
Odin sat at the edge of his throne, gripping the armrest and looking just about ready to pounce. Despite his body's sinister pose, his facial expression remained blank.  
"Why is it winter in Asgard?" The old man asked.  
_Why is it winter in Asgard? Why_ shouldn't _it be winter in Asgard? _Loki couldn't form a rational idea as to why it was winter in Asgard. Last he checked the grass was still green. Despite abhorring asking for help, he now turned questioningly towards Sif, with '_is it really winter' _etched onto Odin's old face.

Sif couldn't meet Odins questioning gaze. She and the others had agreed not to tell Odin about the snow – it was clear that this festival was already giving him much pain, telling him that it was snowing where it shouldn't be would only add to the strain. Besides, it wasn't that much, and had only begun a few days ago.  
"It is nothing" She replied coolly for Odin, smiling gently down to the nervous old man. "The snow will relent soon – Thor simply disturbed the mountain snow during his departure."  
There was a chorus of murmured "ohs" throughout the hall, and more than a few people left – satisfied with an answer to a similar question.  
The man with the cap smiled widely, pleased that the snow would not continue long enough to cause his crops to fail and his family to starve. "Oh – thank you," he said, nodding gratefully between Odin and Sif. "This is wonderful news, thank you!"

He continued smiling and shuffled backwards awkwardly, not taking his eyes off of Sif and his frozen king, still poised to pounce.  
Odin watched the crowd part to let the quaking old man through, and then close back in around him. Not a second of silence lasted before another Asgardian was coming forward, a woman this time – well dressed, but no noble. Loki ignored her and turned to Sif instead.  
"You did not tell me it was snowing." Odin rumbled as quietly as he could. There was no sludge this time.  
"It was… unimportant." Sif consoled her king.  
Odin raised an eyebrow. "You lied." He noticed. "Thor did no such thing, he used the bifrost."  
Sif shrugged apologetically. "The snow will melt and things will go back to the way they were before – whether Thor caused it or not will not be important."  
Loki smiled slowly, and Sif watched the Allfather grin back at her like she had told a great joke.  
"You find this amusing?" She asked, failing to hold back smile. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had seen Odin smile for anything, other than for Frigga.  
Odin continued grinning as he turned back to the woman. "Immensely."

~~~~~~0~~~~~~

Thor lay with his arms folded beneath his head and stared up at the dusting of stars spread across the heavens above him. From his place on Midgard, the stars looked cold, dull, and immensely small. He had taken them for granted on Asgard, but here they reminded him how far away he was from his home. They were nearly reachable on Asgard, here they were distant. His feelings were not shared by Selvig and Jane however; they appreciated the stars just as they were, and didn't like it when he told them that they were brighter on Asgard. This confused Thor; it was like saying they appreciated the large feast laid out before them from a thousand paces away instead of actually sitting down and eating it. Same feast. Different distances. Thor equated this to them still trying to get around the fact that they were definitely not alone in this world, and were incredibly miffed that they did not have the prettiest stars.

Still, he couldn't hold back a grin when Jane would gush about them for hours - yellow sub giants and tiny moons and frozen planets light-years away waiting to implode. But these stars were unmoving and impersonal, she could only look at them through the telescopes. He wanted to take her back to Asgard and show her how the stars were meant to appear; big, bright, and just inches away. Those "sub-giants" were not so sub from where he stood.

His mouth twisted. Unmoving, impersonal, frozen planets. Loki would have snorted.

Jane and Selvig had once plotted Jotunheim out on the world tree Yggdrasil, but later dismissed it as a "very big Uranus" and giggled incessantly afterwards. They weren't done mapping it all yet, but refused to let Thor help since it would "ruin the fun". He wondered if his father would welcome Jane if she went back with him to see the stars. He had left without Odin's blessing, but there seemed to be slight amount of understanding between them. Then again, something could have changed. Maybe Odin wouldn't even let his son return.

"Hey…"  
Thor looked over to the soft sound and frowned at where Jane had poked her head over the side of the roof. He watched her mouth twist into a sheepish grin before grinning back. "How are you standing there?" He asked, rolling over to pull her on top of the roof.  
"Found a ladder." She put her hand into his larger one and squealed slightly as he rolled them both back to the middle of the roof. She leaned into his side and he rubbed her arm in an attempt to make her warmer.  
She watched his face for a moment; he looked so tired. Thor flicked his gaze to the corner of his eye and caught her staring. She blushed and looked back up to the stars, and Thor's mouth twitched into a smile again.

Jane hadn't planned on interrupting Thor, but he brooded so much. It wasn't healthy to dwell on the past as much as he did. She watched his face again and tried to think of a way to console him without bringing up the events with the dark elves. It was hard to see what triggered his moods; they could be doing anything random when suddenly his expression would falter or fall and he'd get a distant look in his eyes. Or maybe it wasn't the elves he thought of but Loki instead. Or his mother. Or father… Or maybe he was homesick. She was silent a few minutes more before she spoke up.

"Are you homesick?" she murmured into the arm wrapped around her shoulders.  
There was a beat of silence as a look of intense concentration crept across his face. "Homesick – are you referring to that twinge whenever the thought of home comes to mind?"  
"Yeah." Jane smiled encouragingly. "Homesick."  
Thor looked over to her. "You are aware, Jane, that that is no disease?"  
Her sad smile widened. "Yeah, it's just a saying – it's perfectly normal. Not a disease."  
"'Just a saying.'" Thor snorted. "That is your excuse for most of these strange 'Midgardianisms' that you come up with."  
"Midgardianisms? These are normal, day to day expressions!" Jane sputtered in mock horror.  
Thor patted the side of her face awkwardly with his trapped arm, "It's just a saying." He murmured reassuringly.  
Jane 'humphed' indignantly and went back to watching the stars. It quiet for a good long time before she woke herself back up.

"You didn't answer my question" she whispered.  
The corners of Thors mouth turned down and he pulled her closer to his side. "I suppose I do pine for my home still." He patted her again. "But you are here, and this is a good home too."

~~~~~~0~~~~~~

Banner stared out of Tonys floor to ceiling windows and watched as Thor hopped from building to building, dodging Clint's arrows. The structural skeletons that surrounded Tony's tower from Loki's onslaught still remained; providing much amusement to gods and archers alike. The snow that was dusting the city now was proving impossible to clean-up or even move around. Progress was slow, and the snow was slower to clear still.

"Hey, hold this thing." Tony whirled around in his chair and presented Banner with a gift.  
"Tony, you shouldn't have."  
"It's not for you, it's for Pepper." Tony shook the colorful box, impatiently urging Banner to come help him.  
"Where?" Banner asked, walking up to Tony and his rattling box.  
"There – stick your finger on that part while I tie this." Tony glared at the offending ribbon as he tried for the umpteenth time to make a bow on top of Peppers present. "This…" He hissed and tried to get the ribbon that he'd managed to tie onto his thumb off. "Is… NOT…" He shook his hand angrily and sniveled in a fake cry, "WORKING!"  
"You're not-"  
"I created the best, most reliable source of energy in the entire universe, I should be able to TIE a RIBBON."  
Banner smiled to himself. '_Most reliable'… 'universe' – there's that ego again._  
"AGH!"

Pepper wandered into the office five minutes later to see Tony and Bruce grappling on the ground; surrounded by torn pieces of ribbon of various sizes and colors littering the floor. Bruce was the first to see her and react, smacking Tony on the back of the head and flicking his eyes over to Pepper. Tony twisted his neck awkwardly to cover up the thing between his hands and his teeth.

"Tony." Pepper sighed. She was amazed at just how childish the man could become sometimes. He shot up and smoothed his shirt out, acting as if nothing had happened. He stomped over to where Pepper stood and presented her the box with creased wrapping paper and a piece of string.  
"Help me do the thing." He asked her.  
Pepper raised an eyebrow.  
"Please?" He added, trying to figure out what she was waiting for.

She took the box and string from him and tied it almost effortlessly. "Finger?" She asked.  
"What? Now?"  
Pepper looked at Tony quizzically, missing the joke that had him snickering and Banner flushed.  
"Tony, just put your finger in the middle – on top of the knot."  
Tony complied and had his "I'm having a breakthrough" expression on when she finished the last little bow above his finger.  
"That's a really good job." He said, taking the box from her and holding it up to the light to inspect it. The yellow wrapping paper with little blue, red, and green balloons was torn and crinkled; but the bow was something to be marveled at.

He brought it back down from the light and turned it over in his hands to ogle at it a little longer.  
"Here." He said, holding it out to Pepper eventually. "Got this for you."  
Pepper smiled graciously, though it looked slightly forced as she took back the box she had just tied a bow on. Nodding, she pulled the string back off and just had to lift a piece of tape to make the entire wrapping fall off.  
"I, uh, designed it like that." Stark muttered. "Easy to unwrap… wouldn't want you get a papercut."  
Pepper nodded again, pulling the lid off that had happy birthday scrawled across the top of it. She couldn't care less about the gift – she was more pleased with the fact that Tony remembered.

"Like it?"  
Pepper smiled misty-eyed down into the box.  
"Woah." Tony hung himself over her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "If I knew you were gonna do that I would've gotten you two."  
"It's not my birthday." Pepper whispered.  
Tony stared at her, anxiety beginning to gnaw at his gut. _Shit_.  
She looked over to him, perfectly pleased. "It's in two days."  
Tony stared at her blankly. _Why is she crying?_  
"You remembered."  
"Yeah… eah." He was still staring at her. _Wasn't it today? Is she sad? What?_

"You remembered _and_ you were early."  
Tony was still staring at her. "Okay, you're tired," he concluded, spinning her around and ushering her to the door. "Let's get you to bed before you really lose it."  
Bruce blushed awkwardly in the corner and went back to watching Thor run the gauntlet that the two assassins had set up for him. The snow was getting heavier.

~~~~~~0~~~~~~

Loki lay spread eagle on his father's bed, staring up at the dark wooden rafters far above him. They were a stark comparison to the bright white walls and golden columns that supported them. The dark night sky beyond the open archway to the balcony was peaceful, and carried the sound of the large ocean that surrounded the realm. If he strained hard enough he could also pick up the sound of the soft transparent cloth that served to cover the large arch as it wafted softly inward and wrapped itself around whatever was near the doorway. It looked like it had a mind of its own, and was actively seeking some inanimate object to strangle. Or maybe it was just Loki's mind that thought it was strangling things.

The week was not going by well; he was not even halfway through assisting the large amount of people within the palace's walls. It was both boring and maddening and not what Loki had expected to do when he became king. It was beneath him; beneath any king. There were people who had been appointed to carry out this very task to helping the citizens of Asgard; why was the _king_ expected to mingle? And to make matters worse, this all came upon him just weeks after pretending to die in Thor's arms. Was this a yearly thing? If it was, why had he not noticed the throngs of peasants marching through the corridors before?

Odin-Loki rubbed his one uncovered eye and surprised himself with the guttural growl that came from his throat instead of his usual wispy sigh. The noise jolted him out of half-sleep state and he glanced around the empty room, expecting the real Odin to be hunched over at his bedside. He let out a slight breath at the confirmed emptiness of the room and stared blurry-eyed at the large cabinet where he had retrieved his father's armor from. There were a few notches in it where a small dagger had been lodged into its wood; and a longer, nastier scar where a large sword had answered that dagger. Loki lowered his gaze and rolled to his side away from the cabinet to stretch out his sore arm in front of him. He bent and twisted it, attempting to get the kinks out.

He would give anything to transform back into his own body; the old man's bones ached in strange places and there was an odd clicking noise that came from somewhere in his spine. He dared not lower his disguise in case Hiemdall saw, but he was getting tired of only having half of his vision available to him. That and the one side he could see out of was slowly deteriorating, and he couldn't hear people unless they yelled or enounced their words very slowly and carefully. He had been talked down to his whole life, and now even disguised as Odin they spoke to him like a child. There really was no rest for the wicked.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence and interrupted his self-induced pity party. He recognized it as one of the handmaidens that was supposed to help him with his garb. He couldn't even dress himself – Odin couldn't reach his damn toes. He rolled onto his back once more and lifted his head to glare at the door that the woman hid behind. After a few seconds of silence that he hoped made her feel uncomfortable and nervous he shooed her away. Loki didn't feel like dealing with his father's useless body at the moment. She complied ever so graciously from her hiding spot, but stated that she'd be within calling distance if he needed her.

He glowered at the door before letting his head flop back down and staring at the back of his eyelids. He had to get some sleep, this festival of his father's wasn't even halfway through and he was already mere seconds away from magicking someone and their damnable crops to Hel. Loki shifted back and forth to find a comfortable position with his armor still on. He gave up after a few moments and settled on balling a pillow under the small of his back; he was not about to go back and ask the sniveling servant outside his door for help. Finding some comfort with the pillow in place, he let his mind wander and relaxed slightly. Maybe he could get some sleep this time.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for most of the night, and the sound of the water proved more annoying than peaceful in the end. But when Loki finally managed to get to the point of restful slumber, his traitorous mind began to wander back to Midgard, and further into the void he had just crawled out of. He jolted out of his half-sleep state and stifled the urge to cry out by biting down on his balled fist. He stayed in that position, gnawing on his hand until his panicking mind settled enough for him roll over and rock without hurting himself.

_I wonder what Hiemdall would think if he gazed upon the Allfather now?_ Odin closed his one good eye and rocked himself to tranquility – or what he thought constituted as it. How many times had he done this in the void? It hadn't really worked then, but at least the bed below him now was solid. Loki breathed deeply and wondered if he were capable of Odin-Sleep in this form. The Allfather had always looked so peaceful when he retired, it would be nice to have such a satisfying sleep.

But Odin-Loki sighed. He would have to try it some other time; the populace was still in his hall begging for answers to their failing food source, diseased children, and broken grandmas. Sleeping now, if at all possible, would not appease the masses. A wave of anger and disappointment washed over him in an instant. This wasn't what he had planned on doing when he became king! He wanted the world to stay in a stasis of grandiosity and glory. He wanted those miserable wretches that were currently using his throne room as a giant hospice to grovel at his almighty feet! He wanted the rest of the damn court to beg for his forgiveness at their lack of approbation when he was younger. He wanted recognition for being Loki, not his damn father! He wanted what he wanted and no matter what he wanted _he did not get it_.

But this was it. This would be his time whether they liked it or not, Asgardians be damned. Loki would get his kingdom, and neither Thanos nor Thor nor the inhabitants of Hel would stop him. This time around, Loki swore, he would get what he actually wanted.

* * *

Okay so that was like… an into, or something. I guess.  
Thanks for making it down here (unless you just skipped to the end. But still, that required scrolling. Like, a physical effort. Thank you. Sorry.)


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